My Dreams
In the intoxication of sleep,
Awake eyes are filled with dreams.
Now the flowers are about to bloom,
Look, we are about to walk together on this path.
Stop! Let the clouds come and go,
Even the birds are about to fly with us.
They are my very own,
In the color I become,
What does it matter to you,
If they,
In the hue of my desire,
Are about to be colored.
My will, my dreams.
Azra Mughal
